


Just Fall In

by astoryandasong



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: M/M, Oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 12:24:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astoryandasong/pseuds/astoryandasong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam notices something about Chris. Then he can't stop noticing everything else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Fall In

1973 everything and nothing like Sam would have expected it to be.

Of course, he’d never thought about 1973 very hard before. In those pub conversations when you were pissed and talked about where you’d go if you could time travel (funnily enough, where you’d spend your coma had never come up) Sam had always picked somewhere really cool like the grassy knoll in Dallas. How cool would it be to finally know who shot JFK? Instead, he was here, in the world of brown polyester shirts and scary TV test card girls.

On the upside though, at least the tunes were good. T-Rex, The Who, Bowie. It beat the fuck out of the Pussycat Dolls any day even if Roger Daltrey wasn’t as shaggable. He was even getting used to the CID. Gene _listened_ , even if he moaned about it and called him a woofter a lot. Ray would always hate his guts, but it was an honest, stupid, lumbering sort of hate that Sam could handle. The whole thing was sort of refreshing. I hate you and you hate me, let’s have a punch up.

Chris, though. Chris was young and innocent and smart. He was savable, and Sam could tell already that he was going to be a good copper. Chris was also very, very gay.

Later, he’d think it could have gone down any number of ways. It didn’t though, and the outcome made him lean more firmly towards the time travel angle. His subconscious just wasn’t that weird, or that nice. Sam was a masochist at heart.

Anyway, the usual Friday night in the boozer, and Gene’s taking the piss out of Chris again. Ray’s just laughing along and Sam’s thinking that Ray’s never going to get where he wants to be with Gene. Blind obedience doesn’t impress him; he likes his coppers with brains, fists and a heart. Ray has only one and Sam has two but is working on his third. Chris has all three in embryonic, baby step form. Gene is rabbiting on about his third favourite topic after booze and beatings. This topic is one that could generally be headed Birds. It would however include tits, page three and the state of everyone else’s love life. Tonight it was Chris’. “You have to actually talk to slags before you shag them. In fact, they have to know you’re alive first.” “Yes Guv.” Chris mumbles into his pint. Satisfied with this, Gene staggers off to lead a chorus of ‘You’ll never Walk Alone’. In the split second after that Sam is watching Chris, ready to smile and make fun of the Guv. But Chris just looks so miserable that Sam’s breath catches a little in his throat. Now many people would have just thought it was misery about being single, or being slagged off. But Sam Tyler was not a copper for nothing. It was all of a sudden so very obvious, and Sam wondered how he’d been thick enough to miss it.

He didn’t say anything that night or on Monday. He watched Chris, though, out of the corner of his eye. In the morning there was nothing and Sam was about to give his hunch up. What had seemed so certain in the pub shrank in the grey and beige of a typical CID day. As the day wore on, he began to dismiss the idea as the product of too much booze and maybe a bit of loneliness. Chris was his usual self: smiley and endearingly gawky. Cute like a baby animal.

Of course the problem is now that Sam has had the thoughts he can't unthink them and every little thing Chris does is tinged with it. Sam finds himself wondering idly if Chris has ever kissed a man as he spaces out in the canteen. Annie gave up trying to talk to him five minutes ago with a huff. It's not like when he thought about Gene (of course he's thought about Gene) and imagined one off shags in an alley. The problem is, he likes Chris. Genuinely as a person.

Starting to fancy him as well is a recipe for disaster, surely. As he's having that slightly depressing thought Cjhris walks in, grinning. He's having a slagging match with a PC about his age and Sam knows that his initial gut reaction was right- Chris likes blokes. But could Chris like him?

It torments him for the rest of the afternoon, tightening his jeans when his thoughts drift into fantasies of Chris as a baby dom. Christ. It helps of course that everyone thinks he's a bit strange anyway and mainly ignores him when he drifts off. Even Ray just shakes his head and goes back to illegibly filling out incident forms.

By end of shift he's fucking desperate to get out of there, into the fresh air, back to his poky flat so he cans stick his hand down his trousers and finally give in. As soon as the door shuts behind him he this yes, god, finally. Opens his fly and closes his eyes. Thinks of Chris shedding his shyness gradually and realising that what he's actually always wanted in life is to shag Sam Tyler and hold him down while he does it.

He hasn't been fucked in years, not since before Maya, but he wants it suddenly and desperately. If this was his own time he could go out and find someone, he would know where to go. Maybe be able to shake of this Chris thing before it became an actual Thing. He is so, so _fucked_.


End file.
